The Heart Between Us
by Animegoil
Summary: AU: Shizuo makes a deal with a god in order to save Kasuka. The smirking creature says, "Then the contract is sealed. I take half of your heart in return for boundless strength." Shizuo/Izaya.
1. Chapter 1

**Damn these two. Damn them so much. I'm not even comfortable shipping them! (any real relationship between them would be unhealthy as heck). And yet, they're so fascinating. This was inspired by a BEAUTIFUL Shizaya video on youtube, and it sort of parallels it. I can't do links, but here's the part that comes after the slash at the end of the domain name: watch?v=cDDU6iyBDkM**

**Enjoy! **

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**_The Heart Between Us_**

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The first and last emotion Shizuo sees on his brother's face is fear.

They call each other's names, but they ring out over the destruction, unheard and unheeded by the frightened villagers and the ravaging soldiers. Horses rear in fright and snap their ropes, crushing everyone underneath their stampede and running away into the hills, past the villagers attempting to do the same. Shizuo pushes his way against the crowd, sweat and soot and blood rubbing off on his arms and tunic, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face before it becomes lost forever. The air is heavy with stuffy smoke and the clashes of swords and the heavy thump of footsteps and crumbling buildings, but Shizuo navigates through it all, following the huddle of enemy soldiers ferreting out the young women and pulling Kasuka away by one dislocated shoulder.

Kasuka has always been the prettier one. Now, Shizuo wouldn't mind the title if it meant they'd take him instead.

o0o

He fights like he's never fought before – his muscles stretch and pull apart, fibers breaking under the strain and bones crumbling under the pressure, but still he fights to get Kasuka back. He roars—the slim, skinny frame of a young boy attempting something inhuman, and almost— _almost_— succeeding.

0o0

He lies on the ground, bloody and bruised and unable to move, surrounded by a massacre that smells of greed and selfishness and bleeds human lives. Not all the casualties are theirs though— around him, smashed skulls and splintered debris bear the marks of his small hands.

But it wasn't enough. Kasuka is still gone, and now Shizuo lies there, breathing through his mouth because his nose is too clogged with blood, and every time he even tries to move his body seizes and it's all he can do not to scream.

o0o

He blacks out for what he thinks is only a few seconds, but when he opens his eyes again, it is nighttime, and there are dying embers in the depths of the ruined buildings and the cackle of crows from the dark treetops.

In front of him, a vulture swoops down and pecks at an arm peeking out from a fallen beam, tearing the flesh off the bone like it's nothing more than taffy, gorging itself on the raw muscle. Shizuo tries to roll over, but his body doesn't respond and the best he can do is turn his face to one side and vomit, the acid dribbling down his chin and making him even more nauseated through the putrid smell.

It is not silent, but without Kasuka's calm, gentle voice, Shizuo feels like a gray, static-filled blanket has been thrown over his eyes and ears, and he can't move, can barely breathe, and _Kasuka is gone_. His brother. The only one who understood him, supported him. They are miles and miles away by now, and Shizuo will never catch up at this point.

The panic that fills him makes his heartbeat explode into a hammering tirade, and his breaths speed up until he becomes lightheaded, and then he screams. He screams out of rage and fear and self-loathing, that he couldn't save his brother— that he wasn't strong enough to. His neck stretches out in the moonlight as he raises his head and screams, the rest of him broken and unresponsive.

o0o

_Make me stronger_.

0o0

"Hmm? But he's just a child!"

There is a mix of disdain and curiosity in that voice, and Shizuo opens his eyes to find an upside-down face hanging above him.

"Wha—?"

The face disappears, and Shizuo scrambles up onto his feet, body moving like a broken marionette, but working at least. He clenches his teeth against the dizziness and forces his legs to stand straight, though he rather suspects they're about to collapse again. He leans back to press his calf against a fence-post behind him for support, resisting the urge to reach out a hand too.

The man in front of him is tall and slender, delicately built. His skin is pale and unblemished, seeming to glow in the twilight, and his robes are iridescent, hemmed in fur whiter than snow, and fluttering like gossamer. A golden circlet adorns his forehead, and at his fingers glimmer half a dozen rings and tinkering bangles. Despite that, there is a frigid air to him, and Shizuo feels the hairs on his arms standing on end, prickling up at the sharp smile the man gives him. His hair is cropped short and merciless, and he stands in front of Shizuo, patronizing him with the attempted pity in his smile and the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you want?" Shizuo spits out, voice gravelly from disuse, but still the high-pitched tone of a child's, and he knows that in this condition, there is very little he can do. He is utterly powerless.

The man—nearly a creature, for there is nothing human about him that Shizuo can sense—tsks at him and says with a lilting voice that mimics the cheerful gurgle of a stream, "Now, now, that's no way to speak to a god."

Shizuo doesn't miss a beat as he retorts with startling simplicity, "You're not _my_ god."

The man raises his eyebrows at that and starts laughing, the sound starting out as a low rumble in his throat and rising until it breaks out into a full-fledged cackle that doubles him over and forces him to rest his hands on his knees as he continues to laugh, shaking uncontrollably. The sound seems so inappropriate and tactless in this place, surrounded by bloated and burned corpses waiting only for time to lay a layer of dirt to create a proper cemetery.

When he calms down, wiping the corner of his eyes, he straightens back out and gives Shizuo a once-over. Shizuo feels like the man is trying to dig into his heart, dissect and analyze him, see past the trembling of his limbs and the voice shouting frantically in his head _Find Kasuka, find him, find him, find him!_ Shizuo wants to listen to that voice, but something about this man, this creature, keeps him rooted to the spot, wary and ready to attack, a cat with its hackles raised.

"You're not afraid of me?"

"No." He doesn't trust him, and instinctively doesn't like him, but he's not afraid of him. He's afraid of other things—loneliness, powerlessness.

The creature tilts his head, taking a few steps closer, and he walks as if stepping on stones across a river.

"Are you saying you aren't afraid of anything?"

Shizuo scoffs, "Everyone's afraid of something," he says matter-of-factly, and the man blinks. After all, people either arrogantly claim to not be afraid of anything, or whimper out as a pathetic excuse what the child has said. This child does neither, leaving the truth uncolored by his bias.

The creature shrugs, "Truer words have never been spoken," he says, nodding to himself, then looks around, all with an air of imperiousness, satisfied with the knowledge that all is his to toy with, break and rebuild as he sees fit.

"You did quite a number on those," he says with a smirk, a lazy finger flicking towards the smashed skulls of the few soldiers Shizuo was able to get a hold of, "Impressive." Suddenly, his gaze becomes calculating, cold and cutting like a razor blade. "But not quite enough, is it?"

Shizuo grits his teeth, feels the cracks and splinters in his body and despite the sacrifice, there is still the absence of his brother, like the absence of air, choking him. "What would you know?"

A smile breaks out on the creature's face like splitting ripe fruit, "You can't hide it, you know. I heard you – I was called here by your _need_. In your darkest hour you called to me, and here I am, ready to lend a helping hand," he catches the look on Shizuo's face and laughs, the many chains and bangles hanging on his body jingling with his merriment, "Yes, yes, it's understandable that you're suspicious—after all, only bad things happen in this world, right? It would be just _too good_ for a god to come out of nowhere and offer you the answer to your prayers! But you're lucky – I happened to be in the area. My work takes me far and wide, but it is destiny that we've met here. You needed me, and I am willing to answer that need!"

He twirls, and without losing momentum, comes to stand right in front of Shizuo, poking one slim, jeweled finger at Shizuo's bare chest, dragging it in a circle along the edges of the hole in Shizuo's tunic. "But I know what you want."

He smiles, and there is nothing kind in his smile.

"You want to be stronger, don't you?"

Shizuo's heart squeezes.

"I can give that to you."

The finger disappears, kissing his skin goodbye reluctantly, but it reappears instead on his head, combing through his dark brown locks, messy and coated in ashes and dirt and dried blood. His other hand reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small rabbit-skin pouch.

"It is the mineral of the gods. Wash yourself with this at the next river you come across. It will make you inhumanly strong."

Shizuo's heart flutters.

"But there is a price."

Shizuo's heart stops.

The man drags a finger, slowly, as if through sweet, sticky molasses, along a cut on his chest and Shizuo flinches, though the motion is nothing more than a grimace. His eyes stay fixed on the devil red eyes of the creature in front of him. The self-proclaimed god waits for an answer, and when none is forthcoming, places his palm flat above Shizuo's chest. Shizuo resists the urge to shudder at the cold touch and the feeling of violation that accompanies it. His instincts scream at him not to trust this creature, but at this point, what more does he have to lose? A sliver of the child that is barely as tall as a fence-post wants to hope. And after all, what price would be worth more than having Kasuka back?

"Half of your heart."

"You can have it."

The creature blinks, "Just like that?" when that steadfast gaze doesn't waver, he smirks, "Well, alright. Then the contract is sealed," he presses the pouch into Shizuo's hand, and with the other grips Shizuo's chest. Under his cold palm, Shizuo's heart beats thunderously.

"I take half of your heart in return for boundless strength."

* * *

**I am so excited about this one! I have the ending and the general plot in mind, but not sure how to deal with... the particular side effects of this contract :) **

**By the way, this is important: is the writing style working so far? I have been very conflicted over whether to make it abstract/surreal like in the beginning paragraphs, or more detailed and concrete like when Izaya appears. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A LOT OF CHANGES WERE MADE TO THIS CHAPTER. They don't actually affect the plot, but they give a lot more detail and coherency. Thanks **to dnei, Uphill Both Ways, and Maydn for the concrit 3. Hopefully this fixes the lack of suspense/forced feel of this chapter.

**Thanks for your patience guys, and the kind comments and advice on the writing style! **

**Enjoy!  
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_**The Heart Between Us - Ch. 2  
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Shizuo comes to face down on the ground, and by this time, the smell of death and decay is so strong that he clamps down a hand over his mouth to force down the urge to gag. He gets to his feet heavily, and looks at the remains of his village, his home. Somewhere underneath the rubble, his parents' corpses lie, unburied. But then his fingers brush against the lump in his pocket where the pouch is, and he remembers. He has no time to bestow upon them the proper rites. He bows once, deeply, thanks them for his life and his brother's and turns around, walking out of his village without another glance back.

Kasuka is out there, waiting for him.

o-o

He stops at the next river he finds, one he had come upon multiple times on hunting trips with his father. It is wider than a stone's throw, but shallow enough that he can cross it without difficulty. Shizuo stops at the edge, watching the eddies of water twirl and weave between rocks and branches, carrying away stray leaves. He takes the pouch out of his pocket, soft velvety leather rubbing against his palm, and wades to a deep pool created by the current accumulating against a particularly large rock near the edge. He sets the pouch safely on the stone and dunks himself in the water, ignoring the cold and watching the layers of dirt and grime and blood stain the water brown and almost immediately dissolve in the current.

He strips all of his clothes off, rubbing them methodically against each other to clean them, and once the water doesn't come away dirty, he lays them on the rock to dry. Shizuo looks down at himself, the clear water allowing him to see all the way down to his toes, buried in the current-smoothened pebbles of the riverbed. His white skin is flecked with yellowish bruises and half-healed cuts that he picks at. There is a red mark over his heart, as if he'd been burned, on the exact spot that the creature placed his hand. He thinks, with the first inkling of wariness, about what it means to have half a heart and then stops. It doesn't matter. What good is a heart without Kasuka anyway? He does wonder, however, if his heart has stopped, now that it has been cut in half.

But when Shizuo puts his hand over the mark, he feels his heartbeat. Once. Twice. Thrice.

He takes stock of himself again and realizes that he feels no different. Aside from the mark and the pouch, there are no signs left of that encounter. Shizuo scoffs, having deep down expected nothing less, despite his sliver of hope. Gods do not exist, and taking _half_ of someone's heart is impossible. If Shizuo truly were missing half a heart, he's fairly sure he would not be standing here right now.

And yet he is.

Something settles on top of his stomach, a cold, heavy stone that weighs it down and makes it hurt. He does not know himself well enough to be able to label it as disappointment.

o-o

He still has the pouch, though.

Out of curiosity, he takes it and opens it, eyeing the shimmery powder inside with a frown. It looks too valuable to be given out freely, but Shizuo feels the blood pumping through his veins and knows he still has a heart. So what did the man, the creature with the odd clothes and the devil's smile, get?

o-o

He decides to faithfully follow the instructions given to him, since the worst that can happen to him is that he remains as he is, and even as he is, he will fight for Kasuka. He washes himself with the powder, rubbing it into his skin and his hair, and despite the small amount, it seems to cover his entire body, a layer of shimmery warmth and _strength_. Shizuo feels it sinking into his bones, becoming light-headed with the sensation. He swipes it off his skin and scrubs it out of his hair, watching the shimmery water that runs off his body swirl into the current and disappear.

He rubs his eyes and blinks to get the water out of them, and catches a splash of gold. He looks closer, standing still until the ripples fade away, and it takes him a moment to realize the young boy looking at him with hair as bright as the sun is him.

He stares at his reflection, frowning at it but not bothering to reach up and touch it, and then shakes his head. He has wasted enough time on this. He takes his clothes off the rock, even though they are not dry yet, and slides them on, letting them stick to his skin and allowing the sun and wind to dry them.

o-o

He travels for three days and nights without stopping. His body feels hunger and thirst and fatigue, but it does not succumb to those needs. He has always been a rather single-minded person, but now his body follows along as well, ignoring all else in order to get to his goal.

o-o

Shizuo is not the kind of person who questions things. His life is composed of things that matter and things that don't. But it infuriates him when the two realms cross: Kasuka, the things that matters the most to him, and something that didn't matter at all to him, such as the war between two negligent, power-hungry lords. Shizuo never cared about the war – they were in neutral territory, after all, so it should not have involved them. But what are a few villages and a handful of lives in the power-struggle of the rich?

o-o

Following the wreckage that the ravaging troupes leave in their wake leads him to a castle, well-guarded and protected by a stone wall that looms over him. Shizuo looks up at it as the mesmerized wind ruffles his sun-kissed locks.

A guard catches sight of him and yells at him, most likely something trivial about leaving and minding his own business, but Shizuo doesn't bother listening. He looks around, sees a tree, tall and gnarled and of incredible hardness, and wraps his hands around the trunk as best he as he can. Then he pulls, and though he feels his muscles screaming, and thinks that the sound makes it out of his mouth as well, he manages to uproot the tree, pulling it out of the ground like pulling dough apart, dirt raining down from the roots and stray leaves and sticks and a bird's nest falling from the branches.

He swings at the stunned guards, and then rams down the front gates.

o-o

He sprints through the hallways, between the massive array of buildings and bridges and gardens inside the castle walls, hearing shouts and cries of an intruder, but no one is expecting a small child, not with the gate splintered and destroyed, and in the chaos of mobilizing their soldiers and guards, he is overlooked. He runs and runs, looking for any signs of prisoner barracks, any signs of Kasuka, crossing courtyards and tearing open shoji doors.

A guard catches sight of him, an unknown child with unnatural gold hair that gives him away immediately, and lunges at him. Shizuo stumbles and skids to a stop, taking hold of the guard's arm and flinging him away. He disappears over a roof top and Shizuo stares at the spot and then back at his hands. Then he shakes his head and keeps on running.

He finally thinks he's found them, near the back of the immense compound, at the corner of the castle walls: a small building with flat, wide windows. They're too high up for him to peek in through, but he can smell the stench, thick with fear and uncertainty and body odors never meant to stew in one place for so long.

The door splinters when he kicks the lock in, and sunlight floods into the dusty darkness inside. His chest heaves, blood pounding in his ears at the thought of Kasuka in one of these cells, and he dashes to them one by one, looking for him. They're all filled with huddled forms who cringe at his steps and press against the wall in fear, mistaking him for a guard.

Shizuo's throat closes up when he finds him, huddled in one of the dark cells towards the back. There are mothers, faces hardened into a cracking semblance of confidence for the children they hold tightly in their arms, and young girls rocking back and forth against the wall, holding back soft sobs and pressing their legs tight together.

There is Kasuka, in one corner, arms wrapped around his knees and eyes staring into nothingness. At the sight of him, Shizuo feels a rush of anger, of fear—something is missing though— and he thinks _If they've done anything, I swear— I swear I'll kill them!_

"Kasuka!" he screams, pulling apart the metals bars. Kasuka's head jerks up, and the light bleeds back into his wide, deadened eyes as he sees his brother stepping into the cell.

"Brother…" Kasuka whispers, eyes suspiciously wet, hands beginning to shake, and Shizuo drops to his knees in front of him, and they grab each other's hands like there's nothing else that can keep them alive, gripping so tightly it _hurts_, but neither wants to let go, ever. He's overwhelmed to see Kasuka's face, to have him back, but Shizuo can't put his finger on what's off about the feeling.

"Kasuka," Shizuo breathes, and that's when he notices the ropes tied around his ankle, chafing the tender skin underneath, and tries to quell the anger bubbling in him, "Wait," he murmurs, reaching out and tugging at it, snapping the thick rope as if it were no more than a loose thread on his clothing. He straightens up and walks around the cell, slowly in order to accommodate Kasuka, who follows him on unsteady feet with his hand fisted tightly around on Shizuo's shirt, and sets all the other women free as well. Some of them are from their village, and stare at him in amazement and confusion, and maybe a hint of fear.

A stampede of footsteps rushes in towards them from outside, amongst calls and cries and the sounds of war and threats. Their heads all turn as one towards the sounds, some women begin crying anew, others break into the low murmur of panicked prayer, but they're all looking to Shizuo like he's either the one about to get the killed, or about to save them. Shizuo grits his teeth and pushes Kasuka a little to the side, carefully so as not to disrupt the hold he has on his shirt, then fists his hand and reaches back as far as he can.

He punches the wall through which the outside of the castle lies, crumbling it to nothing, grabs Kasuka's hand and runs.

o-o

They run for hours, until sunset, until they're sure that they've escaped and no one has bothered chasing so far after a handful of fugitives, and all the while Shizuo fights the nagging thought that something is off, something is incomplete, _missing_.

Finally, they stop at the side of a stream, twilight veiling the underbrush and canopy of green above them into dim, blurry shapes. The women collapse onto the ground, all faint and breathing heavily, some having been forced to carry their infant children. Kasuka is pale and shaking, but he hasn't let go of Shizuo's hand once, though the way he sways on his feet belies his exhaustion. Shizuo realizes belatedly that they probably haven't fed him, but he has no food on him either. The best he can do for him now is to tug him carefully, guiding him towards the rippling stream, and kneel him on the sandy bank to get some water. He watches as Kasuka dips his face in the water and begins drinking, and when he's done, leaning back with relief painting color back into his cheeks, kneels down to the bank to get his own share.

The water is refreshingly cool on his heated palms, and he splashes some first on his face, gasping at the cold, and then greedily begins drinking, cupping handful after handful of water in his hands and gulping it down, his body clamoring for more after days of denying itself food or water. He drinks without any sort of restraint until his stomach feels bloated, like an unsteady balloon about to burst.

When he tries to stand up, his body finally registers the limits it has surpassed, and his vision suddenly spins wildly, the vertigo threatening to upturn his sloshing stomach. He moans softly as his muscles suddenly go slack and he collapses, not even staying conscious long enough to feel his head hit the ground.

o-o

He wakes to the steady, repetitive feel of fingers brushing through his hair. He thinks at first _Mother?_ but then he opens his eyes and realizes he's lying on grass, not thick enough to disguise the hardness of the earth and roots below him. The soothing motion pauses as he blinks a few times in a vain attempt to dispel sleep.

"I'm sorry, brother… did I wake you?"

Shizuo glances to his side to see Kasuka curled up against him and to see the glimpses of the noon-high sun peeking through the leaves of the tree shading them. The stream gurgles steadily next to them, and he can hear the chatter of voices around them, the village women making food, no doubt. Kasuka's eyes are sleepy-looking as always, as neutral as his quiet voice, but his legs are curled up against his chest and he still has his fingers hooked on Shizuo's sleeve.

"It's fine," Shizuo mutters, still too tired to stretch, and so the blanket of grogginess stays swathed about him. Kasuka nods slightly, small hand reaching out to sift through his hair again.

"Brother… how did your hair get like this?"

It takes him a moment to understand the question, but then he frowns slightly, toes curling as he looks down and plucks a single blade of grass from the ground, rubbing it between his fingers. He'd forgotten about everything for a moment, somehow deluding himself into believing this was any other sleepy afternoon near the village, with supper a few hours away and the harvest season approaching fast. But when he glances back up, he sees Kasuka's swollen, chafed wrist and the strands of straw-blond hair brushing against the red skin, and grits his teeth.

"There was a …" he doesn't know what to call him, so he settles for the simple, "a man. He gave me this hair," he digs his fingers into the ground and scratches out a clump of dirt, sifting it through his fingers, and adds, "And he made me strong."

Kasuka's eyes are wide, "Strong?"

Shizuo nods, looking straight at him with the innocent straightforwardness of a child, "Strong enough to save you, Kasuka."

Kasuka lowers his eyes, silent for a moment, and then he presses himself closer, burying his little face in the bony crook of Shizuo's elbow and holding onto Shizuo's sleeve even tighter, whispering, "I was scared. I thought I'd never see you again. But then you appeared. And I was so happy, brother, I thought I was going to cry."

Shizuo freezes halfway through putting his arms around Kasuka. He lets his arms fall back to his sides and stares at the silhouetted leaves above him, blinded by the thin rays of sunlight breaking through the branches. He realizes now what's been off since he saw Kasuka.

He should be _happy_ to have Kasuka back. He should be smiling and relieved—

But Shizuo can't feel anything except the simmer of anger and a bubbling restlessness.

o-o

_In exchange, I will take half of your heart_.

o-o

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**So I hope I've made you curious about what's going to happen next ;) And yes, our dearest Izaya will come in next chapter. And if anything felt off or not developed enough or not suspenseful enough, please let me know!  
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	3. Chapter 3

**NOTE: After the concrit you guys gave me, a LOT of changes have been made to the previous chapter. If you want to read the upgraded version, I would recommend it. **

**Enjoy!  
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_**The Heart Between Us - Ch. 3  
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Izaya twirls it in his hands, holds it up to the sunlight and watches the rays diffract through it, forming a rainbow on his face. He tosses it once up in the air, and then just keeps turning it over and over in his hands, eyes roving over it, fascinated at the disgustingly sweet warmth that emanates from it, and the purity within it, clear and fresh like morning air in the mountains.

He cackles at the catch he's found, and when he's bored, tucks it away within his own chest and hops off the top of the tree he's been napping in, the air cradling his fall so that he lands with a soft touch on the mossy ground.

He doesn't think twice about the boy he gathered this curiosity from, pleased instead at his rhetoric skills and immersed in a glutinous self-satisfaction at having succeeded. He is forever testing the limits of his prowess, and though he's long suspected himself capable of this particular task, this was his first opportunity to test it. He needs consent from his victims, after all, and when dealing with matters of the heart… well, that can be the hardest, as well as the easiest thing to accomplish.

He lets a wicked smile cross his face as he saunters off, whistling a commoner's ditty picked at random.

"Now, where's the next despairing soul for me to take advantage of?"

o-o

"Brother?"

Kasuka may only speak in one-word sentences sometimes, but Shizuo has never had trouble understanding him. The concern in his eyes at the hardened, despondent look in Shizuo's eyes is enough for him know what Kasuka is really asking.

"I'm just tired."

Shizuo has never lied before. He's always wished he could, because he's seen how it used to get the other village boys out of trouble. He's always been a bit impulsive, and with his one-track mind it is easy for him to lose track of unimportant things like time and chores, getting caught up observing the clouds, or a leaf stuck in a whirlpool. Being able to say something as simple as 'I was helping a passer-by find some food' or 'Satou's goat ran away again and I was helping catch it', all legitimate excuses in their village, would have excused him a stern lecture and punishment in more than one occasion.

But Shizuo always felt too guilty about lying to be able to do it.

That is not the case anymore. He lets Kasuka believe that his clipped words and sullen manner are due to mere exhaustion, and feels no remorse for the emptiness of his words.

o-o

Something cold touches his arm, and Shizuo jumps, gaze breaking away from where it had been focused on the top of his knees, as if he can somehow visualize the slow ache that permeates through them and all his other joints as well.

It is Kasuka, holding a piece of melon that has been kept chilled in the cold stream. Shizuo takes it, mumbling a thank you as Kasuka sits down beside him. He still takes all chances given to sit as close as possible to Shizuo, sides pressed in one warm line that dissipates all space between them. Normally, Shizuo would lean into the touch as well, basking in the gentle warmth of the affection he has for Kasuka. Now, with nothing seeping into his heart save for irritation at his inability to feel what he remembers feeling so strongly before, the pose only makes him angry and uncomfortable. But he doesn't want to feel angry at Kasuka, and though he realizes with a bitter start that he would not feel guilty anymore if he were to push him away, something keeps him from doing so. He's not sure whether it's mere logic—the knowledge that he should not do that to Kasuka— or a different sort of feeling: disappointment and hatred at himself, for doing something that he knows he would have never done before.

He bites into his melon to distract himself, welcoming the sweet juices that burst in his mouth. A beetle crawls onto his leg, and Shizuo uses the movement of reaching down to flick it off to put distance between him and Kasuka.

o-o

The women have been arguing for a while. There is Michiko, the wife of their village's medicine man, and Keiko, their neighbor, with her month-old infant cradled in her arms, and a few other women that Shizuo often saw his mother conversing with, but never bothered to learn their names.

They debate whether they should go back to their village to find any survivors, while others say to simply try to find the nearest village, because they won't last long in the wolf-ridden wilderness.

Shizuo sits cross-legged next to Kasuka and one of the suriving toddlers, making pictures with sticks and stones, largely trying to ignore their conversation. Now that he has Kasuka, he does not care about his next steop. Most likely they will just follow the adults and head to wherever they decide– he has no parents or relatives left, after all, so the next best thing is just following their friends and neighbors.

"We don't even know if there's anything left to go back to, do you remember what it looked like when we—"

"We don't know that for certain. We can't _not_ go back—"

Shizuo blinks and looks up when Michiko gets up and kneels in front of him, tucking her tattered kimono neatly underneath her, a lady even in the middle of the tree-stumps and moss-covered stones.

"Shizuo, child," she murmurs, as if he were about to rip another tree out of the ground, or turn tail and run. They have been all a bit hesitant around him, not sure what to make of his strength—is it god-given, or a trick of the evil spirits? Shizuo himself does not know, and thus can offer no reassurances, "Where you there after the pillagers left? What became of our village?"

Shizuo frowns, "There was nothing left."

She looks slightly taken aback, "Nothing?"

Shizuo just looks at her. She covers her mouth with a dainty hand, closing her eyes for a moment, and then she speaks softly.

"But where are your father and mother?"

Shizuo glances at Kasuka, whose eyes are now wide and his stops over the stone he'd been about to pick up. This is not how he'd meant for Kasuka to find out, but he can't find it in him to actually _care_, can't feel the remorse and the sympathy and the ache that he should be experiencing at the sudden dread in Kasuka's cold eyes. He looks back at Michiko.

"Like I said, there was nothing left."

The women all look dismayed, minds presumably jumping to their husbands and other children, and Shizuo turns away from them without another thought, reaching towards Kasuka and pulling him over, wrapping him in his arms. He goes through the motions mechanically, but muses that it's good that this simple bit of common sense has not left him, and allows him to respond as he _should_ be responding.

If his arms are not tight enough, and he doesn't feel the urge to rub his brother's faintly trembling back or whisper any comforting words, he doesn't realize it.

o-o

They decide to make their way to one of their neighboring villages, in the hopes that any survivors made their way there. The trip takes two days, the distance that Shizuo had covered in less than one. They keep themselves barely fed with roots and fruits, and at night, Kasuka and Shizuo set up traps so that in the morning they are able to prepare fox and rabbit meat. Shizuo skins the animals, a task his father had tried and failed to relegate to him many times. Shizuo had always liked animals.

His father would be proud now, if he could see the brusque mechanical way in which he sets himself to work.

o-o

The village welcomes them with food and offers them a chance to bathe and rest, having heard of the massacre and thanking the gods that they were spared. They do indeed find a few of their own who managed to escape and take refuge here, and within a few hours of conversation their fates are decided. They will start anew here, settle and assimilate into this new village, and keep moving forward. Humans are a hardy race, and though the women mourn their families, they know there is no choice but to harden themselves and keep on going through the motions of life.

o-o

Shizuo tries to as well. Kasuka is obstinately attached to him, in a way that Michiko thinks is endearing and allows. She has offered to take them in now that they have no one else to turn to, and they have agreed, helping her and the other women build their simple huts on one side of the village, where the other refugees have started building already.

Shizuo would have thought at one point that it was endearing as well, but now it only makes him angry. So unbearably angry and frustrated, to look at Kasuka and only remember in knowledge that he used to love him, that he's happy to have him back. Cracks form in his composure, as if he were ice dropped in water. He finds himself snappy, fighting for control of this simmering buildup of red-hot anger.

When Kasuka attempts to hold his sleeve for the umpteenth time, Shizuo snaps and catches himself just in time to take hold of a small sapling instead of his brother, and whirl it into the distance. Kasuka claps with a straight face and then pokes Shizuo's trembling biceps.

o-o

He feels anger at himself, which doesn't exactly make sense, since it's not like he can _do_ anything about this whole mess, but he wants to feel something and tries to _make_ himself, and when it doesn't work he stomps off into the woods faster than Kasuka can catch up to. He stumbles and falls to his knees in a small clearing dotted with mushrooms and violet pansies, and he lies down on his side among them, consumed with fear that this is what the rest of his life is going to be like. He finds he's still capable of tears, and they leak down his face one by one.

There is no regret within him though, because he knows, though he can't feel it the same way he once did, that this is what he chose. This is what he wanted: Kasuka, no matter what the price.

o-o

By this point, Kasuka, though young, is certainly perceptive enough to realize there is something wrong with his brother. His brother, who hasn't laughed in the past two weeks, his brother, who hasn't smiled at him for as long. But every time he asks, Shizuo stares glumly at the ground, fists tightening and shaking, and mutters with gritted teeth, "Nothing."

Kasuka is too young to realize the importance of getting his brother to admit differently and get to the root of the issue, too young to challenge his idol. His eyebrows twitch in an attempt to frown, but he trusts his brother. If he says it is nothing, then it must be nothing.

o-o

He tries to be calm and patient but he _can't_, and at one point, he just stops trying. Why fight himself? It only leaves him tired and irritable, and makes him avoid people — _Kasuka_— so that he does not lash out at them.

Unfortunately, the sudden bursts of unexplained violence have swiftly congealed into a reputation that has all of the people around him shying away, giving him a wide berth when they pass. Some have begun to deny him entrance in their homes, while others don't even speak up for fear that any provocation will result in an unmitigated explosion. Shizuo has been used to being patted on the head and smiled at, always being told he's a good boy, praised for his obedience and manners. To go from that to these frightened glares, to having mothers keep their children away from him, to hearing the village elder arguing with Michiko about making sure to keep him controlled…

Shizuo lies in his cot at night, staring at the straw packed between the wooden beams of the roof, and feels hated for the first time in his life. His very existence dwindles under the onslaught like a match struggling against a gust of wind.

o-o

The final straw comes when Shizuo and Kasuka are grinding rice to make into paste. They stand at one end of the rice field, next to the barn, hefting wooden pestles almost as long as they are tall. Shizuo has to be careful when grinding the rice. The first time, without thinking, he slammed the pestle down and broke the grinding stone, lodging the pestle nearly two feet into the ground. Now he makes sure to tap the pestle carefully against the stone, watching the rice disintegrate into fine powder. They've been at it for an hour, finally stopping to take a break. Kasuka is sitting on a piece of wood behind him, scratching his scalp where the sweat has made it itch and swinging his legs so that his toes brush the grass. Shizuo bends down to sit on his haunches, sifting his fingers through the ground rice and feeling the bits of larger grain left within the powder.

"Brother. Catch."

Shizuo lifts his head and turns it just in time to see a black small blur flying towards him, but it's too fast for him to catch it. It lands on his collarbone and suddenly there's a sharp intense burst of pain, and he howls.

Kasuka blinks as Shizuo rips out the bug, a giant, ant-like insect with a set of jaws bigger than its head, and why did Kasuka think it'd be _funny_ to toss him one of those?

"Kasukaaaaa!" Shizuo doesn't even have control of himself anymore – it's all anger, all instinct, he reaches beside him and picks up the grinding stone, and it wobbles once under his unsteady muscles before he manages to find a precarious balance and hoist it over his head.

Kasuka just stares at him, eyes half-lidded with only faint hints of interest. He does not cower, does not flinch, just watches Shizuo with that ever-trusting gaze of his.

It is a woman's scream— _what is that boy doing! _— that jolts him out of his sudden trance and his maladjusted body loses its balance and drops the grinding stone. It rattles the ground, a bone-shaking thud, and Shizuo feels lightheaded, the vertigo overriding even the pain of his dislocated shoulders and making his vision black out into a shimmering wave of black pinpricks that surround him until he feels like he's floating upside down. Then gravity reasserts itself and he wobbles and stumbles to the ground, falling flat on his butt first, and then finding himself unable to even sit up, muscles trembling erratically.

He keeps butting heads against a single thought in his head, trying to get around it, but he can't, it rushes to meet him like a bull, sharp horns digging into his conscience.

He had been about to throw the stone.

o-o

He is cajoled awake by a rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand, light and airy, but his sleep must have finally reached a shallow-enough depth to be awakened by the small motion. Shizuo lifts his head, giving a sharp glare to his brother, who watches him with his eyes flat as usual and his eyebrows raised in a mockery of amusement.

"Aren't you angry?" he grunts.

Kasuka shrugs.

Shizuo frowns, cold fear beginning to seep into him, and anger, thickening and roiling with the cold like oil and water mixing futilely and making a nauseating combination, "I was about to throw a stone at you."

Kasuka shakes his head.

"You think I wouldn't have done it?"

Kasuka just looks at him, completely certain, and it is that certainty that makes Shizuo's stomach clench until he turns to the side, hand coming up to cover his mouth because he's sure he's going to throw up.

Kasuka believes in him. Kasuka was sure that Shizuo would have never truly thrown the rock. But Shizuo _knows,_ he felt it. He had been poised for it, about to contract his muscles and send the large mass of granite flying. The only thing that stopped him was the distraction of the woman's fortuitous scream.

He hates this. He is no longer able to feel the love that kept him protecting Kasuka, and is no longer able to keep control of his anger. There is nothing to keep him from hurting Kasuka. But he can still feel the disgust and sadness at having hurt him or even _thought_ to hurt him. The sadness permeates his every pore, penetrates his skin and sinks into his bones, leaving him disappointed and weary, because now he understands what he's lost, and more importantly, understands what it truly means to have lost it.

He realizes now that he cannot live like this.

* * *

**Alright, so I got so caught up with Shizuo that Izaya hardly made an appearance, woops. Hope you enjoyed - your reviews have been incredibly helpful, really 3  
**


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